Publicado por
Rafaela Nunan 24 de janeiro de 2015 -
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Arte & Cultura
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#nude middle aged women
#older nude ladies
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Awright you people, thanks for the input on Part One. You all made it alternately way more and way less creepy to be writing erotic nonfiction for strangers. The feedback was so disproportionate to what I was expecting that mature erotica I tabled some things I really should have been working on to finish this second and final part of the story, with the juicier bits I didn't really have the space for given the natural stopping point in one.
Part One is here:
http://ift.tt/1ztJOeB
It's mainly buildup, but I'd say also pretty crucial to get the full effect of these events. Give it a look first.
Needless to say, I was pretty amped again by the time I got home, and I immediately put a couple of condoms into my wallet in the hopes that my next study session with Alicia might turn into something more than the very odd, one-sided sexual experience we'd already shared. We had four days to go until our Tuesday session. As you might imagine, it was a long weekend.
I had a date that Saturday—the day after the events of Part One. She was a girl I got along with from my program who'd invited me to a play she had to see for a class, one who I had an extremely friendly, pretty chaste relationship with mature nude photos at the time. I couldn't have known any of this, but in about a year she'd introduce me to one of her friends who'd be my first fiancee, who would fall into a depressive spiral and leave me a week before our wedding date. Two years after that, she'd be one of the two girls with whom I ever had unprotected sex. At the time, the idea that a "let's catch up" date would ever lead to me getting her out of a very similar-looking black dress, then guiding her to maddening levels of arousal with a slow erotic massage before railing her bareback over the edge of the bed would never have occurred to me. Funny how life works. I might tell that story next.
Not being able to tell the future, though, that night I didn't have future emotional trauma or aggressive sex on my mind, except the latter as it related to Alicia. We had a lot of fun on that date, and ended up making out a little bit on her couch afterward, but we didn't really do anything else.
I said goodnight and arrived home to find a message from Alicia on my machine. Just a "hey" in Facebook, nothing else, pretty much the way every Facebook conversation started in the late 2000s. But it was only a few minutes old, and she'd never messaged me for anything but schedule changes, and so I took the bait:
"hey yourself :)"
We ended up chatting until some ridiculous hour about movies, her schoolwork, good places in town to eat, and eventually we latched onto some segue and started talking about sex. I joked that she could probably sell shower cam subscriptions by the millions if she wanted, and she told me that she'd really enjoyed watching me herself. She also wondered how I might look in her shower.
Naturally, before too long I had locked the door and was typing with one hand.
The conversation got surprisingly direct at this point, as so many late-night online conversations do. I told her that I wished I had stayed with her when she was touching me, and she agreed that things might have gotten interesting (with a ";)" afterward, two characters which practically doubled the intensity of that sentence). What strikes me even now is how honest and innocent she was in her most direct invitation yet, and here I paraphrase from memory because I deleted these chat logs after getting engaged:
"so just to be clear here… I want to be honest with you but I also don't want to get your hopes up too high. I definitely want to mess around with you a little bit, but tbh this is kind of new territory for me and you're kind of an older guy… so keep your expectations low and we'll have some fun ok? :)"
I assured her that we wouldn't go any further than she was comfortable, and that maintaining a safe environment for her would be a priority.
And to be honest, the events that afternoon been such a surreal, heat-of-the-moment sort of thing, where she'd clearly opened the door and I'd played within those confines a bit without necessarily "playing my hand" in anything but a literal sense. I really wouldn't have blamed her if both of us getting caught up in it didn't necessarily lead to regular mindblowing sex. That's not the way that things always go in real life, and that's fine.
As a kid I used to count the minutes until Christmas. With two weeks or so remaining I'd open up an MS Works file and literally type out the numbers from one to ten or twenty thousand or whatever. Several times a day I'd recalculate and erase the minutes until Christmas morning. For the first time in years, I felt that sort of excitement again, though obviously I didn't go to that level of obsessive detail.
Finally, agonizingly, Tuesday came around, and then that blessed hour of 5 o'clock. I was dressed in a button-up semi-professional shirt and somewhat looser jeans this time, having planned ahead. I wore cologne, just a drop behind the ears and on my waist in case I ran into anybody else, but enough that she'd smell it up close. The label said "Moves". I recall thinking that if they've already committed to that total abandonment of subtlety, they might as well have just labeled it "Fuckin'". Either way, it seemed appropriate.
Alicia opened the door, long hair newly curled and wearing makeup for the first time that I'd seen her. She looked nice, like always, but moreso I was turned on by the fact that she'd clearly been thinking of me. She was dressed more formally than usual—just a blouse with a shoelace fastener on the front, an undershirt, and a short, loose sort of frilly skirt I'm not sure I can describe properly.
She invited me in, and apparently had no idea what to do next because she shyly asked me if I wanted a glass of water. I said sure, and she paused for just a second too long looking at me before saying "Right!" and getting it. I drank it, and she just stood in front of me in the kitchen, watching me drink and place the glass down. When I was finished, we just looked at each other for a minute. She said "Sooooo…"
What the hell, you only live once.
I stepped forward, placing my right hand on the small of her back and letting my left travel up her arm, to her shoulder and finally to her cheek. Her breath quickened nervously, which a warm-blooded male like me couldn't help but notice caused her breasts to heave in the hottest way, as I leaned in slowly and gave her a long kiss. At that point, the dam broke; her body suddenly filled with life as she pressed her body and lips against me. We kissed in the kitchen for a few minutes right there, just kind of sweetly holding onto each other before she pulled away, grabbed my arm and led me down the stairs to her room, closing the door.
There we just made out on her bed for what felt like an hour, but was probably only a few minutes. it was so incredible, like I was sixteen again. So freeing to finally be able to feel her body as something real, to work my hands under her shirt and run them up along her back, under her bra strap and up to her shoulderblade, and to run my fingers under her skirt, feeling her ass muscles tensing through her panties before working my hands through that layer of material as well and enjoying the pressing strength of the fabric against the skin of her cheeks. I felt her hands moving as well, working mature women photos under my shirt and exploring under my jeans in response to my studies of her bare skin, even if she didn't quite have the nerve yet to move further to the front than my waist.
Ah, well, plenty of time for that.
Eventually we ended up completely horizontal and I mounted her, pressing myself more and more into her body as we kissed. She began to work her legs around me and press her torso against me too, and as my passion rose I started doing what most men would do in that situation, thrusting against her through her skirt and my jeans. As she wrapped her legs around my back and started pressing into me with the same rhythm, harder and harder and so clearly grinding her crotch into me with increasingly animal intensity just for the way that it felt, I think I finally realized through her increasingly loud and breathy squeaks and gasps that this girl was really, truly going to let me fuck her. It was ridiculous—the bed springs were already squeaking with the fury of a couple of young and horny college kids giving each other's genitals a long-deserved Olympian workout, and we were both still fully dressed.
Time to remedy that. I asked her to move her legs and she unwrapped them from my back. I rolled her over, spooned her from the back with both of us lying on our left, and started to work my hands under her skirt and up her front.
I'd felt so much of her ass, and it was finally time to sample the rest.
With my left arm I held her, feeling her still-covered breasts freely with that hand, cupping and squeezing and pinching her nipples gently through her bra to her pleasure, as my right hand began the real work.
I worked this hand up her thigh, rubbing in circles, and she started breathing sharper in anticipation. I stopped just short of her crotch each time and went back down, enjoying the way that I was driving her insane. She grunted with a mix of satisfaction and frustration, convinced by my mind game that I was going to go for the goods this time every time before… I retreated back to halfway up her knee and started over. When I reached her pantyline on her leg, I'd work my hand under, careful to stop just short of her crotch, but running my fingers loosely in small circles through the thick hair I found there.
Grabbing my hand she tried to guide me to where she really wanted me, something I gently refused before continuing the torture for several more minutes. Finally I pulled back down and went the whole way up, running two fingers along each side of her clothed vagina to her shuddering moan and then gently fingering her pubic bone with my outstretched fingers only right above her clitoris, giving her a preview of what to expect which must have been glorious torment, my fingers well under her panties but not quuuite where she was aching for me to go.
I couldn't see her face, but the low, sharp moans were enough to signal that I was doing my job. I nibbled from her elbow to the back of her neck, causing her to reach back in passion and start fumbling for my penis. I gently took her arm and moved it back.
"No, this is for you."
At last I brushed once, lightly, up her greedy wetness and pressing lightly into her clitoris. Finally I kissed my way up her neck and nibbled on her earlobe, just before I finally gave her what she wanted, massaging her crotch with my entire cupped palm through her panties. As her head went back and she folded both arms in front of her, under my arm still holding her, lost in own little world, I switched to exploring down the front of her skirt and panties from the top and finally rubbed her clit directly, skin-to-skin. It's hard sometimes to gauge a girl's sensitivity and viciously fingering her clit if you have no idea what she's used to can be a bad idea, so I started with extremely light pressure, not going much harder as I got the impression from her already ecstatic gulps and her writhing in my arms that she was getting plenty from what I was doing.
Finally I pulled back from her body, rolled her onto her back, and went to my go-to move for horny young coeds who've given me the ok: I reached back under her skirt from the bottom, up and under her panties, worked my third and fourth fingers slowly into her, and squeezed ever so gently upward.
Her back curved.
I straightened my fingers, then curved them again, a little further this time.
She moaned, meeting my eyes.
After a few more repetitions, I pulled her upward, hard, as if I was trying to lift her toward the ceiling.
She made a sound that I don't have the words to describe.
Then I did it again, slowly moving faster and faster and faster until all reason seemed to have left her eyes to the jackhammering I was giving her. She bit her lip intently and moved her arms, which she didn't seem quite to know what to do with, to each side of her waist. She lifted her pelvis in the air, sometimes rotating it in circles as I did my work, sometimes humping in mid-air at nothing as all conscious thought gave way to pleasure. I felt her vaginal walls clench around my fingers, sometimes for seconds at a time, before releasing and then clenching again with greater force. I don't think a better resistance workout for finger strength exists than a tight young coed. Too bad they're so rarely available.
We got into a rhythm like that for awhile, with me eventually kneeling right over her on the bed with my left hand resting on her pubic bone to stabilize her, the thumb of that hand resting with moderate pressure on her clitoris, and me lifting my right arm just as hard as I could with my two fingers absolutely pounding the top of her vaginal wall. This whole technique is something I learned from a clip on the internet, and while the guy pitched it as a way of giving a nice ending to a massage, it's a fantastic way of giving a woman release in any situation, as long as you tease her enough first. To this day I still haven't found a technique to bring a girl who's already horny to orgasm faster.
I have fairly short fingers, and a girl's g-spot is usually either right at my fingertips, or just a little past and more difficult to reach. From the way Alicia was just about falling apart beneath me, I'd say I was right on.
Just as my fingers were starting to give out, Alicia gave me the signal I was looking for: Her breathing grew incredibly short, she tensed up completely, and she threw her head back, mouth wide open.
Time for the home stretch.
I curled and lifted my fingers inside her with double the effort, resting my entire body on her pubic bone with my other hand and pressing my thumb into her clitoris with the same hand's thumb, hard. You'd be surprised what a girl's vagina can take, and knowing when not to treat a girl gently is as important as anything else.
A few seconds later she stopped breathing entirely and lurched, contracting tightly around my fingers in wild convulsions. I heard her call my name, almost reflexively, as orgasm took her. I saw her go to another place, her body shuddering in waves like a cold chill.
It took her almost a full minute to rejoin me in the room. She looked up at me panting, her face pink and hair spread out on the bedspread, suddenly at one with the universe. She'd cum before, but not quite like that. My fingers still inside Alicia, I felt her grow more relaxed, wet and welcoming.
What can I say?—it's a killer technique. Three years later, I'd use it on the girl in my program to similar climactic results. Who says **** never taught anybody anything useful?
From the willing look in Alicia's eyes, I knew I'd taken care of her needs. Most of them, at least. All business now, she pulled my belt loop toward her, and with her still lying on her back and I straddling her on both sides, she unzipped me, struggling with the button for a second, pulled my starving penis out of my boxers and took me into her mouth.
The relief was like putting new socks on after a shower, only a hundred times better (I was going to say "thousand," but let's not knock one of the other best feelings in the world, right?). She went right for it, holding the base with one hand and just going wild with her mouth and tongue as if rewarding me for what I'd done for her. I ran my fingers through her hair and did some mild thrusts before deciding—that's it—this was the moment that I was going to fuck this girl. And I wanted to feel my chest against hers, rub her pubic hair against my own, feel my testicles collide with her thighs. There's a certain thrill to clothed sex, but that was not what I wanted right now.
I moved back, giving her a kiss on the forehead which was all I could reach from my vantage point, and undid the shoelace tie on the front of her blouse with one finger, watching her top open up under me. She did a sit-up and I pulled off her blouse, then her undershirt, and finally undid the tiny hooks on her bra and pulled it too over her head in one swift motion.
Her breasts were wonderful because they were hers. I lowered her back down roughly and they shook, and as I kissed on and around her nipple, I found the zipper on her skirt and removed it too, her legs moving obediently into the air to accommodate me. I took her soaked panties off in the same motion and my student and friend Alicia lay nude and ready before me.
I let her unbotton my shirt and take off my jeans, feeling her breasts under me with my hands as she did so, then left the bed and disrobed completely. We both watched each other hungrily as I rummaged in the pocket of my jeans for a condom, rolled it over myself, and then took my position on top of her.
I slid myself slowly into Alicia, pulling out just a bit before going in further, distributing the lubricant she'd already made for both of us in such generous amounts across the length of my shaft and her pulsing, squeezing canal.
After this much waiting, I was no longer gentle. I pushed myself fully into her, she wrapped her legs around me, I moved my head alongside hers and I began thrusting as hard as I wanted to, which after a few seconds was pretty damn hard, it turned out. She cried out as before, her breasts cushioning me against her, her pelvis moving and down as before but for a very different reason.
She moaned.
"Into my ear."
"What?" She was panting.
"Moan into my ear." I turned her head toward me with my hand as I continued moving in and out of her.
From here there were only two things on my mind—the wonderful pressure around me as I thrust again and again and again into this girl who I'd been teaching and fantasizing about for months, and the sound of her increasingly urgent moans in my ear as I fucked the hell out of her.
Now one thing about me: I'm not the most sensitive person down there. It's not that I think I don't feel as much in a physical sense, but I don't often get off by oral, and sex with a condom can result in really long sessions. I recall reading somewhere that the average man lasts 14 minutes during sex, but it can be hard enough for me to turn that general feeling of pleasure into the tingle that leads to orgasm, to the point where if I'm not really feeling it I might last longer than most girls might think that they want in a man.
None of that was a problem here. Ten minutes later, I started to feel that spark, picked up the pace and pounded Alicia silly with the last of the strength in my abs, filling the condom inside her and collapsing onto her bosom and into her arms. With the return to reality brought by orgasm I then immediately pulled out, pulling off the condom and rinsing myself in her sink before wrapping the condom in a sandwich bag from my lunch—no good if one of her parents saw that little bit of evidence—put it back into my backpack, and rejoined her on the bed. We spooned against for a few minutes as I ran my hand across her front, no longer aroused but loving the way that she responded. Just rubbing my penis along her lower back felt really nice. Feeling appreciative, after a few minutes of lightly fingering her I took a place between her thighs and ate her out to another, more subdued, climax. We cuddled quietly for a half hour or more.
Later in the shower, things almost seemed to be back to normal. She was joking and laughing, teasing and touching, with the only real change being that we were nude, lathering and rinsing every inch of each others' skin. The first of my real fantasies with Alicia had gone full circle, though obviously she couldn't quite bend over to lather without… well this story's going long, so I'll just say that I used that second condom in the shower. It was going late, and I was so paranoid that somebody was going to come home, that my second orgasm of the night was a little more urgent.
We never ended up getting to her studies, rather talking and hanging out in various states of undress as we listened carefully for the sound of the electronic garage door. I ended up over 30 milf getting out of the house about an hour later than normal, giving her a strangely sweet hug goodbye from inside and then walking out to my car just as her family pulled up. We ended up having to make the principles of those sessions up by phone so that it didn't impact her studies, upon which I found that her parents were insisting that they throw a little extra compensation my way for my efforts, which I refused. Somehow, being paid by a man to secretly fuck his daughter felt more than a little inappropriate.
(The optional epilogue is pretty boring and doesn't really have anything new or fresh enough for a Part 3, but if enough people ask I'll put it into the comments.)
CCCMMMM
